Trying Snape
by black-journal
Summary: Snape has been arrested and it is up to Harry to get a confession out of him. PostVoldemort, fairly canon through HBP. Probably no slash, but if there is, it will be mild. Some torture.
1. Reminisces

**NOTE: **Along with the I-don't-own it and all the rest, I am nearly 100 sure that at one point, I posted this on I'm not sure it was under this account, as I can't see it here. That means it may be floating around under a different account, and if that's the case, PLEASE PLEASE let me know. I searched and couldn't find it, so I may have just deleted it. Thank you.**  
**

Disclaimer: Yeah, it's not mine. We know that.

Pairing: Harry/Snape, maybe. PG-13 at worst, if that.

Summary: Snape's been arrested and it's up to Harry to get the confession. Mild torture.

**Trying Snape: Chapter One - Reminisces**

Harry Potter wished that he could go back to the days where he was in Hogwarts. While it had all seemed mind-numbingly scary at the time, looking back, it had all been wonderful – if highly dangerous – fun. The people he had known, the friendships he had made, all of it, meant so much more to him than the ten years since he'd graduated. His teenage years had meant something; he had been the Boy-Who-Lived and had fought against Voldemort.

In his final year at Hogwarts, the last battle had been fought, just outside of Hogsmeade. Harry had been certain that he was going to die, and the six months in St. Mungo's after the event testified to that. Without Dumbledore's help, the Order of the Phoenix lost many of its most valued members. Of the Weasley family, only Ron and Ginny remained. Lupin, Tonks, and Moody had all perished.

They'd even thought they'd won. Harry had destroyed all the Horcruxes, so the only remaining vestige of Voldemort's soul lay within his own body. Once that body was destroyed, Voldemort would finally die. Or so they'd thought. Harry had known that while fighting Voldemort with his own wand did provide some protection, it was also less likely to be able to kill Voldemort. So he had taken Lupin's wand and performed the Avada Kedavra curse. Voldemort had fallen. They had burned his body. The world had rejoiced. Harry was the wizarding world's hero again.

Of course, he hadn't been conscious for any of the celebrations. It wasn't until six months after the fact that he woke up in a hospital bed. It took him a further year and a half to regain even the most rudimentary of functions – he had had to learn to walk and speak again. His friends had been instrumental in his recovery; Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had visited him every day. Then had come the arduous task of re-learning all the magic he had lost. Even now, he always had the sense that some part of him had been forever lost the day he'd killed Voldemort.

Only, there were unsettling signs that perhaps Voldemort wasn't quite as dead as they'd all thought him to be. There was no explanation given for how he could have survived, but there had been several attacks by Death Eaters over the previous six months. No one could know whether they were performed without Voldemort's assistance or not, but it seemed much like it had when Voldemort has returned for a second time. Why not a third?

Harry wasn't sure what he'd do if Voldemort truly wasn't dead. He had recently become an Auror, and knew that he would end up having to fight again were this the truth. But he was sick of fighting. He was sick of being famous, of putting his life on the line, of being someone special. He just wanted to be Harry. The fame had robbed him of a normal life, of normal relationships. Even now, at nearly 28 years old, he had yet to have a relationship that lasted more than six months. It didn't help that the media seized upon every relationship and usually that was what drove the girlfriend (or boyfriend – Harry had discovered he wasn't that picky when it came to gender) away.

Meanwhile, all of his friends had gone on to have reasonably normal lives. Ron and Hermione had married a few years ago, and were expecting the birth of their second child soon. Ginny was prominent in the Ministry and she was only climbing higher every year. She was unmarried, but at least she was successful. Harry was just a washed-out and worthless hero, as far as he was concerned.

His friends came by often to cheer him up, but all they succeeded in doing was depressing him further. He knew that he put them in a bad mood with his bad moods, and was considering using Muggle remedies – like antidepressants (or something stronger) – to fix his problems. Magic didn't seem to have done him much good.

What was worse was that he didn't even know how he'd change things if he had the chance. Everything seemed to have just ended up like this. Harry hadn't asked for Voldemort to attack his family when he was a baby, Harry couldn't have refused to fight Voldemort, or kill Voldemort, and he would have no choice about fighting Voldemort were he to come back. He had spent his life being a pawn, and he didn't know how to live as his own man.

He was broken out of his dreary thoughts by a man suddenly apparating right in front of him, looking rather distressed. Harry sat up in his chair, frowned, looked the man over, and finally stood up. "Felix, what's wrong?" Felix Jenkins was the Head of the Auror Department, and Harry had never seen him look like this.

"Harry, you must come with me at once," he said, gasping for breath. It seemed as though he had been running right before he'd apparated.

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded more forcefully. He had been quite happy sitting here this Saturday afternoon with his melancholy thoughts.

"Severus Snape has just been caught."

Harry gaped. They had never known what had happened to Snape after he had disappeared from Hogwarts after killing Dumbledore. They assumed he had risen to power within the Death Eaters and had been one of the hundreds that had been slaughtered after Voldemort's death. "Caught alive?"

"Yes. He's being held in Azkaban right now. Half-insane, he seems. Though what can you expect from a man crazy enough to do all the things he's done?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. So what's going to be done with him?"

"He'll be tried, and I don't see how anyone could find him guilty, and then he will probably be killed. The policy is as it ever was, Death Eaters must die. And Severus is a Death Eater to the core."

Harry nodded again. "So why do you seem so rushed and out-of-breath." Something just wasn't right here.

"Severus has refused to talk to anyone…"

"Anyone but me?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He couldn't see why the former Potions Master would want to talk to him.

Felix shook his head. "No, he won't talk to anyone, not even you. Not even the Minister of Magic. They've been," he lowered his voice a little, "torturing him."

"What?" Torture was not a practice that the Ministry of Magic condoned, Harry knew that perfectly well. This Minister and previous ones had said that to do so would be to sink to Voldemort's level.

"And they won't stop until they get a full confession."

"So why come to me? You're Head of the Department. If you can't stop them, I don't think anyone can."

"You're Harry Potter."

Harry grimaced. It always came back to that, didn't it? "And what do you want me to do, Felix?"

"Get the confession."


	2. Meetings

**Chapter Two – Meetings**

This was not the Snape he had known. This bedraggled man sprawled out on the floor of a dirty cell was not the man he had known. It stank in here, and Harry couldn't label the smell. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was death. Azkaban had always been despicable and distasteful to all the senses.

Snape's hair was even longer than it used to be. It went halfway down his back, and was more tangled, greasier, more disgusting than it had ever been while he was at Hogwarts. Those sallow cheeks had sunken even further into his face until his whole face looked like a skull with yellow skin stretched over it. It was the skull of a corpse.

He thought back to how he remembered the Potions Master. He had been scrawny, and deathly-pale, but this was different. Harry thought about the way that Sirius had looked right after he'd escaped from Azkaban, how gaunt and dead he'd looked. Magnified by a thousand, that was Snape. He could have been a corpse, except for the slight rise and fall of his chest, and how his eyes followed Harry as he walked into the cell.

Harry really didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. Snape had always hated him, and he couldn't see why that could have changed at all. There was no reason that Snape should talk to him, there had never been any kind of friendship between them. Harry would even go as far as to say that he hated Snape. Snape had killed Dumbledore, and for that he could never be forgiven.

"Um…hello." Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to call Snape. 'Professor' was clearly wrong, but Harry felt extremely uncomfortable calling him 'Severus'.

Snape didn't acknowledge Harry's words in any way.

"Look…look, Snape. I'm the only way that this is going to be at all easy for you. I'm sure you don't LIKE being tortured. Well…maybe you do. But that's beside the point." Harry was babbling now, and he knew it. Gaunt and decimated Snape might be, but he still instilled exactly the same amount of fear in Harry that he had when they were both at Hogwarts. Right, Harry told himself, you have to get hold of yourself. No sense in letting this man scare you. He's a dead man, anyway. "So, all I need you to do is say that you killed Albus Dumbledore. It's a formality, we all know you did it…I SAW you do it, but the Ministry insists on a confession for crimes that carry the punishment of death." He wasn't surprised to see that Snape had no reaction to this, either. "Just 4 words, Snape. I killed Albus Dumbledore." Snape did nothing. "Can you really just sit there and not even say a goddamned thing when it's your life we're talking about? How much easier it will all be if you just say those four words?"

Snape said nothing.

"I can't believe you, Snape. I hope you know that I hate you and that I look forward to your death. I don't care whether you die today, tomorrow, or next year. As long as you die, I am satisfied. And you know what? The rest of the wizarding world feels exactly the same as I do. Is that what you wanted, Snape? To be universally hated? It's certainly the image you seemed to be aiming for when you were at Hogwarts." Harry couldn't believe the words flying out of his mouth. Years of pent-up anger towards this man all let loose and he couldn't stop himself.

Harry got up and walked out of the cell, past the guards, and stormed down the hall. He ignored their surprised glances and he ignored the rest of the prisoners, all of whom seemed to be jeering at him. He had had enough. Snape was a bastard, had always been a bastard, always would be a bastard, and Harry didn't give a damn about him. Snape deserved to die; Harry wouldn't argue that one bit. He deserved to be in Azkaban, awaiting trial and death. If only he'd just confess and let them all get on with it.

Harry apparated back home, and waited.

It wasn't long before Felix apparated in his living room. "Harry…"

Harry closed his eyes. "I can't imagine that you had honestly hoped I would succeed."

"We need that confession."

"I know that." Harry opened his eyes. "But did you consider the fact that perhaps sending the student that Severus Snape hated the most was possibly a bad idea? Or that sending the guy that killed Voldemort to extract a confession from one of his most loyal Death Eaters might not be the most…tactful of moves?"

"You're getting upset, Harry." Felix took out a cigar and lit it. Harry wrinkled his nose. "Snape can stay in a cell as long as is necessary for him to confess. But even you, even with your…prior animosity to Snape, cannot possibly condone his torture."

"I don't know how the Ministry condones his torture."

"Snape killed Dumbledore. They're willing to allow anything to see that Snape dies." Felix shrugged. "And I still think that you're the only one that can make him confess."

"I'm glad to see YOU have faith in me, because I certainly don't." Harry got up from his chair and made a drink. "I want nothing to do with him. I hated him in school, I hated him for what he did, and I still hate him. There is not a person in the world less suited than me to trying to convince him to confess."

There was a long pause. Finally Felix said, "Nevertheless, you will do it."

"Or what?" asked Harry, feeling rebellious. Meeting Snape had put him in a foul mood and Felix was doing nothing to get him out of it.

"Or you lose your job," said Felix simply. He smiled. "Good day, Harry. I trust you will meet with Snape again tomorrow."


	3. Meeting the Second

**Chapter Three – Meeting the Second**

Harry had resolved that on this meeting, he would be calm. He would not allow Snape's silence and deadly glare to anger him the way it had yesterday. It was a perfectly good resolve, up until he walked into the cell, and saw Snape. There was a lazy demeanor to Snape's posture and expression, as though there was just another chapter in his life and nothing to be taken terribly seriously. As if it were all, really, just some kind of game. Despite that, though, Harry couldn't ignore the fact that there were deep purplish bruises across most of Snape's exposed body. It made Harry slightly sick to his stomach, but not nearly enough to feel properly sympathetic. It only took fifteen minutes with the man before Harry was screaming again. Worse, it felt as though Snape was silently laughing at him, at the fact that he still had the ability to produce this effect in Harry.

It was only when Harry realized that that he decided to leave, at least to get a breath of fresh air. The unfortunate part was that there was not a breath of fresh air to be had in all of Azkaban, and once he had Apparated back home, he didn't feel much like going back out again. It seemed didn't seem to matter about the fact that he was going to lose his job if he didn't treat this with more seriousness.

Having had another failed day, though, didn't make him particularly inclined to go to work even for a half-day. It was another in the long list of misdeeds that he was slowly accumulating that was going to get him fired, but there was something very appealing about lying sprawled on his very comfortable chair in front of the television with a beer. Of course, the one beer turned to three turned to six turned to twelve. All before tea-time.

By the time evening came around, Harry wasn't even sure that he could get out of the chair with any guarantee of success, let alone do any work or come up with even a vaguely believable explanation for Jenkins. He wondered if Jenkins was going to fire him today or would wait until he finally made it into the office. That wasn't much incentive, he realized, to go into the office in the first place.

There was a bang from outside. Harry stood up, and immediately regretted it. The world tilted at a crazy angle and in his attempt to get everything back at the right angle, ended up on his back. It was a remarkably comfortable position, despite the fact that he had banged his knee on the way down. He decided that staying like this would be the best option. Maybe he could even sleep like this. He closed his eyes. Sleep sounded good right now.

"Harry? Harry! What are you doing?"

It was Ginny. Harry managed a slight grunt in response and tried to will her away. Sadly, he didn't think there was spell that could do it. And even if there was one, his wand was on the other side of the room and his mind was in no state to even cast a Lumos, let alone anything more complicated.

"Harry…you've been drinking!"

"Mmm."

"It's not even six yet!"

"Mmm."

Suddenly, Harry was no longer drunk. It wasn't a pleasant sensation. The most prominently negative effect of a sober-up spell was that it gave one an awful hangover. There was no hangover-cure spell, it was only a potion. Harry had bought some at one point, but had spilled it down the drain while trying to open it, and had never gotten around to buying any more of it. So now Ginny had condemned him to this agony and he was not happy about it. "Go'way, Ginny," he managed to mutter before weaving his way back to the chair and burying his face in the rough material. If his head exploded right now, he would offer his tearful thanks to the person who had taken away his pain.

"Harry, we need to talk." Ginny's tone was business-like and offered no chance that she was going to go away. "I've been talking to Felix. He's not pleased."

His face still buried in the chair, he said, "Did you know they're torturing him?"

"Excuse me? If you could sit up and talk to me rather than the chair, that would be great."

Cautiously and slowly, Harry turned himself around in the chair. Burying his head in his hands to try to ward off the pain, he repeated himself.

"I am also not in your hands. Harry, we're not going to get anywhere if I can't understand what you're saying."

He sat up and shouted, "They're torturing Snape! They want a confession out of him and so they're torturing him! And no one sees a thing wrong with it!" As soon as he had finished, he regretted raising his voice and wished that, if Voldemort was back, that he would just show up and kill him now, to spare him this agony.

"I know, Harry," said Ginny, softly. At least she appeared to have a bit of sense, having not yet raised her voice once. "But I agree with Felix. You're the one that can get the confession out of him. Not any of us, and I think that we all know that torture isn't going to do anything."

"Why me?"

"You saw it happen. He knows that, now."

"Are you sure?"

"Fairly sure. And if not, time he learned. You are the only person living today who saw him kill Dumbledore. That's why you have to get the confession out of him. That's why you're the only person that's going to be able to get it out of him."

Harry didn't think that there was any way to respond to that, so he didn't, and just concentrated on trying to mentally kill himself to get rid of all of this pain.

"Now, come on. We're getting you to bed, and tomorrow you're going to start acting like a normal person again." Without giving him any time to complain, she levitated him to his bed and left him there to his misery.


	4. Let's Get Started

**Chapter Four** – **Let's Get Started**

"So, Snape, did you know that I saw you kill him?"

If he had been hoping for some kind of reaction, Harry was sorely disappointed. Snape did not even so much as look over at him and remained huddled in the corner of the cell. It had been only three days that Harry had seen him, but he got the impression that Snape was faring considerably worse now than he had been three days ago. For one, he no longer quite met Harry's eye or sat up straight to give the menacing glare that had shot fear into the hearts of so many. Harry didn't really think that it was the torture; Snape was a tough bastard and nothing was going to easily defeat him.

The key to all of this was going to be not getting angry when Snape refused to talk to him. That was the mistake he had made before and he knew that Snape would count it as a victory. "You do realize that we can do this the easy way. All you need to do is to tell me and we'll give you the painless death that you don't deserve. Unless there's some really good reason for you to not do it, I don't see why you're not telling me. I don't see why you're…why you're being so goddamn stubborn!"

At that, Snape turned around slowly and looked at him. There was malice in his eyes, and a twisted smile on his face. He didn't say anything, just sat there smirking.

Harry felt an unconscious violence rising in him and had to fight the impulse to reach for the wand. The cell that Snape was in was not large, and so it would not be hard for Harry to take a few steps forward and land a well-placed kick on Snape's body. One more bruise would hardly be noticed. "I tell you what we're going to do, Snape. I'm going to convince them to stop torturing you, and you're going to tell me what I need to know. Does that sound like a fair bargain to you?" Harry realized as soon as he had finished talking that he had been talking to Snape as though he were a particularly stupid child, but if it got the results, that was all that mattered.

Snape stared at him. His expression did not change a jot.

"So you want them to keep torturing you? Oh, I don't know…maybe you're into that freaky pain stuff. Maybe you get off on them hurting you." Harry knew that he shouldn't start down this train of thought, because it wasn't going to get pretty from here. "Though that's not what I'd expect from you, to be perfectly honest. Do you know what you strike me as? You strike me as the kind of person that would want to be inflicting the pain, not receiving it."

Snape stared at him.

This was getting them nowhere. Harry fought back a sigh. "What if I could get your sentence commuted?" He had no idea how that would be possible, but if it would get the confession, one little lie couldn't hurt. "A life sentence in Azkaban?" He had to stifle back the laugh. As if a life sentence in Azkaban would be better than simple death. It wasn't worth carrying on that train of thought, because if he couldn't even take it seriously, there was no way that Snape would be able to.

He was right.

Snape stared at him.

Harry leaned back against the wall of the cell. He was annoyed that there were no chairs here, but the goal was to deny Snape of any and all comfort. He, however, was not Snape and could do with somewhere to rest while he was trying to deal with his murderous, quite possibly crazy former Professor. "They told me before I started coming here that you were at least half-crazy. I don't believe them. You don't seem crazy to me. Do you know what I think?"

Snape stared at him.

That was as good as anything. "I think that you're scared."

Snape stared at him.

"I think you're scared of what's going to happen now. There's no Dumbledore to protect you. The Ministry…well, we're chugging along, but give us a major crisis and I think we're just going to crumble into a million pieces. And we both know that Voldemort is still out there. As far as we can all tell, you're a Death Eater, despite all claims on your part to the contrary. But you don't think that you can betray them this time, for real or as just as another ploy, because there's no one that's really strong enough to offer you any protection. So, the logical option would be for you to just confess. You won't do that, either, because you're either a really powerful Death Eater now, or you're waiting for them to stage another breakout here. If you're dead, that rather makes it a bit more difficult for you to continue on with whatever you were planning. So, how close am I?"

Snape stared at him.

Harry had really been hoping for a reaction, there. It had been a really inspired train of thought, and was severely disappointed that he had got absolutely nothing from Snape. It occurred to him that maybe Snape was totally insane, and didn't have the capacity to reply. But the look in Snape's eyes told the truth; Snape was as alert as he had ever been. This was all part of a plan, a plan that he had no intention of letting anyone in the Ministry in on.

"Do you know what I'm going to do, Snape?" he asked, in a sudden burst of inspiration. "I'm going to ask the Ministry for your release. You're as much a danger to society as you've always been, but I don't think that your sanity is going to much improve in this hellhole." He paused. "What do you think?"

Snape stared at him.


	5. Jailbreak

**Chapter Five – Jailbreak**

Harry had known that this was going to be a tough sell. He couldn't imagine that they were about to just let him walk about with the man that was possibly one of the most dangerous Death Eaters still alive today. But he had imagined, on his walk through the Ministry of Magic, that he would be able to come up with some kind of plausible explanation as to why they should let him. He had spent all night going through case after case and putting together what he saw as an honestly credible argument. True, that had meant sacrificing badly-needed sleep, and so he looked a little ragged around the edges, but it was all a sacrifice in the name of the greater good, right? Or something like that, at least.

No sooner had he opened his mouth, though, and said, "I think that it would be in the best interests of the wizarding world for Severus Snape to be released from Azkaban…" before he was shouted down by all present. The fact that he was not about to suggest that they just let him loose on the streets appeared to be completely beside the point. He waited for everyone to settle down before continuing. "I am proposing that he be released into my custody. I am more than capable of handling him, and I think that in an atmosphere away from Azkaban, I am more likely to be able to get a confession out of him."

Leroy MacDougall, the Minister of Magic, said, "Severus Snape is a highly dangerous criminal. For him to be allowed back into the world could cause all kinds of mayhem! It is something we can ill afford in these times." MacDougall was a young politician who was only a few years older than Harry. Harry had already discovered that he was a thoroughly incompetent man who relied on the advice of his advisors to make any decision and was utterly incapable of making one on his own. If Voldemort was coming back, MacDougall was certainly not the man that they would want at the helm.

"I was the one that defeated Voldemort," said Harry. This wasn't a card that he wanted to play, but it seemed the best one in the situation. "I think that I can handle someone like Snape. I don't think that he's even a danger to anyone any more. I think he's more insane than anything else."

"Just what we need, an insane Death Eater on the loose!" said Florence Honeysuckle. She had a taste for alarmism, and on more than one occasion had tried to raise the entire Ministry into a panic over something that hadn't ever been an issue. Harry hardly valued her opinion and didn't think that she would be the one that would ultimately decide whether or not he would be allowed to bring Snape home with him.

"I am curious, Harry," said Felix, "how you believe that you can hold your present job while maintaining what would have to be a very vigilant watch on Snape." He leaned forward and smiled. "Unless you believe that a leave of absence will be granted to you while you attempt to coerce Snape."

There was something ugly in Felix's voice that Harry was a bit afraid to contemplate. He had always felt that his job as an Auror was fairly secure. Though he did not always agree with Felix, he had always been of the opinion that they were friends. Something in Felix's tone suggested that they were not, and more, that they had never been. It stirred something in Harry's gut and sent a chill down his spine. "I don't think that it will take me very long to do it. A week at most. I have enough holiday time saved up to take three weeks off, and I cannot possibly see it, under any circumstances, taking more than that." He sat back and crossed his arms across his chest. He still had his notes, all of the legal precedents that he had so painstakingly looked up, but it seemed that that would all come to nothing. It was going to be a battle of wills, not a battle of minds. Fortunately, those were the ones that Harry was best at.

"Are you sure you can do it, Harry? I mean, considering your condition…can you really be sure that you can always subdue Snape…if the worst were to happen? I'm only thinking of your safety, as well as the safety of the country in general." Neville Longbottom seemed to try to avoid giving offense while belittling everything Harry had stood for.

Harry didn't blame him. Considering his behavior and actions over the past few years, it was not wrong for Neville to doubt him. "I understand your concerns, Neville. I really do. I know that none of you really should trust me with anything, let alone the safety and continued imprisonment of Severus Snape. However, I believe that he is at least partly insane and remaining in Azkaban is going to make that worse, not better. Wards can be placed around my home to ensure that he cannot leave. Yes, he could break those wards, but it would take time and I would surely notice him doing it."

"Are you suggesting that both of you be placed under, effectively, house arrest?" That was MacDougall.

That actually wasn't what Harry had meant, but he didn't see much point in arguing. "If that is acceptable to everyone here, then yes, that is exactly what I am suggesting. I don't mind being stuck with him for a while, if it means getting the confession out of him."

"And what makes you think you're going to manage it?" asked Florence. "How do we know he won't just overpower you and escape?"

Harry smiled. It was the one that exuded charm, the one that no woman could quite fight. "I'm Harry Potter. Have some faith in me. Let me do what I do best."

"What's that?" MacDougall again.

"Deal with Death Eaters."


	6. House Arrest

**Chapter Six – House Arrest**

"Well, I've done it, Snape. You're coming home with me. You'll be escorted to my house this evening, and then wards are going to be put up around the house to keep you…to make sure that you can't cause any more chaos. There won't be any torture, won't be any restrictions on your freedom except for the fact that you have to stay in the house." Harry neglected, also, to add that as soon as Snape confessed, he'd be sent off for trial and sure execution. But Snape had to already know that, and so it wasn't worth mentioning. Unless he was completely insane, and then it was unlikely to matter either way.

Snape stared at him.

Harry smiled. It was going to be awful living with Snape, but he was going to soldier on. It was seeming like less and less of a good idea as time went on, but now that he had committed to it, he could hardly back out. He wasn't happy about it anymore, but that just meant getting the confession out of Snape would be all the more important.

He spent the day preparing his house for Snape's arrival, setting up the spare bedroom for Snape to sleep in, making sure that anything dangerous was disposed of so that Snape couldn't use it, trying to come up with entertainment enough to last him for however long this standoff was going to be. He also got rid of the alcohol; though it might be highly tempting to see if getting Snape drunk would force a confession out of him, there was the similarly dangerous temptation that he himself would drink and allow Snape to get out. Being a borderline alcoholic meant that it probably wasn't the best idea to keep copious amounts in his house, but up until now, it had never seemed a particularly bad idea.

When Snape finally arrived, it was under such heavy guard that it was difficult to fit everyone in the living room. Most of them were sent off to put Snape in the bedroom and keep him there while the wards were put up around Harry's house. It took about an hour and a half to do it, and all the while, Harry grew more and more uncomfortable with the idea. He had never entertained the thought that he might be claustrophobic, but now that he was faced with the prospect of being trapped here, it seemed a far greater possibility.

Finally, though, everyone except Snape was gone. Harry was told that he could call for extra security at any time, and that he was to use it whenever he thought it might be necessary and not wait for an emergency. Harry thanked them, but privately resolved to never do so; the smug looks on their faces when they showed up at his door would just be too much. After all, he was the supposedly great Harry Potter and he could handle one half-mad Death Eater.

* * *

The next few days passed in maddening slowness. Snape refused to come down from the bedroom and refused to eat much at all. Getting him to bathe was something that Harry had thought might help Snape's mood, but it had never actually happened, and Harry was certainly not going to bathe the man. He might be willing to do some things for the good of the country, but that did not extend to seeing Snape naked. The very thought made him nearly sick. Snape fully dressed would suit him just fine. Despite his being dressed, though, Harry couldn't help but notice the very evident marks of torture. He didn't want to talk to Severus about it, but he didn't want to just ignore it. It was an impossible subject to discuss, and so he just ignored it.

Most of his day was spent watching television or reading, with occasional forays up to Snape's bedroom to see if he needed anything, or to just have a chat with him. As far as Harry could tell, the man never moved. That had to be impossible, though, as the man had to use the toilet eventually. But after four days, the toilet upstairs had not flushed once. It baffled and worried Harry. No person could go that long without using the toilet while they were still eating – and Harry made sure that Snape ate regular meals, if only to improve the chances that Snape would grow to, if not like him, at least be willing to talk to him.

Day after day, seeing Snape lying in bed, half-sitting up, eyes half-closed, sometimes smirking but more often not, just staring at the wall in front of him. Harry began to draw the conclusion that Snape was thoroughly insane, and so much so that it was unlikely he could ever be forced out of this catatonic state. Nothing that Harry did ever seemed to get through to him, and while Harry really wanted to just stop trying, stop caring, he couldn't help but think that it was all some sort of test. And if Snape found Harry worthy, then he would finally decide to help him.

But he knew that he was just fooling himself. There were two possibilities. The first was that Snape was insane and incapable of answering him. The second was that this was all some twisted game that Snape was playing, and if that was the case, Harry felt it unlikely that just being nice would win Snape over.

So the days dragged on. Harry pined for his lost alcohol, and consoled himself with his newfound nicotine addiction. He ate hardly more than Snape, because he couldn't see the point. He stopped talking to Snape, because it just seemed pointless. Three times a day, he would take food up, and on those occasions, he would mention something about confessing, but Snape just sat there and stared at him, and did not touch the food until Harry was out of the room.

If this kept up, Harry was going to be insane soon as well.


	7. The Party

**Chapter Seven – The Party **

By the end of the first week, Harry was sure that he was going to go mad. He had not heard another human voice – the ones on the television did not count – and he had worn himself hoarse by trying to talk to Snape. He needed company, company that wasn't catatonic and insane. So he called Felix and begged him for permission to invite some people around so that he wouldn't end up just as insane as Snape. Felix wasn't convinced, and forced Harry to endure an endlessly long lecture on how difficult he was making life for everyone before finally agreeing to allow it. He made sure to throw in some snide remarks about Harry's incompetence before hanging up, something that made Harry wish wholeheartedly that he had not removed all of the alcohol from the house.

The guest list was fairly obvious. Ron and Hermione, Ginny, probably Neville. That was about it. No one else could really put up with him for long enough to sit down and eat a meal with him. It was something that he had slowly come to accept, and had started taking as a badge of honor. He was different enough to be nearly universally avoided. It made more sense, he liked to concede, when he was well and truly drunk. Which was why it was never a bad idea to drink, and to be drunk for most of the time. He had even gone to work drunk on a number of occasions, and had only been caught once. Good times.

All four of them agreed to come, and Ron even promised to bring alcohol, though whether Hermione would allow him to was another matter. That only left the matter of what to do with Snape. Harry was inclined to just leave him shut up in the bedroom where he belonged, so he couldn't ruin what was going to be a hopefully enjoyable evening. But it felt wrong to do it, and so he decided to bring Snape downstairs. Even if Snape was just going to sit there and look miserable, he was at least going to be downstairs. Not that he thought Snape was a huge socializer, or had ever been one even before the catatonia, but it felt wrong to exclude him because of it.

As he had expected, Snape did absolutely nothing. Snape made no protests when Harry dragged him – literally – downstairs and propped him up on a chair. The same smirk had remained on Snape's face and Harry had just tried to ignore it. The others treated him more or less like furniture, though Hermione made a noble attempt to engage him in some conversation while Ron snuck outside to the garden with Harry.

"Boring as all hell, is it?" asked Ron.

"I don't think I can stand it much longer." Harry shook his head. "I thought…I know the slimy bastard hates all of us, but I'm honestly trying to do something for him, and he's giving me nothing back. It's like talking to a brick wall, and I just don't know how to deal with it."

Ron reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask. "Hermione stopped me from bringing the bottle, but I managed to grab some on the way out. Want some?" He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink before passing it to Harry.

Harry grabbed it from Ron and drank greedily. He couldn't imagine that the Elixir of Life could possible taste better. It suddenly made everything in the world better and while it certainly hadn't solved any of his problems, it made everything a lot easier to look at. If only Ron had brought more of it.

"Easy there, mate. We have to leave eventually, and we don't want you too drunk to handle the git."

Harry laughed. "Do you think this flask could get me drunk?"

"Ah…no, probably not. Well, best we get back inside to see the others. Hermione will probably realize we're missing once she accepts the fact that Snape is not going to talk to her, even to shout at her or try to take points."

Harry laughed. For some reason, Ron still treated him like he was no different than before defeating Voldemort. They could still laugh together and still understood each other. Hermione was different; she treated him like a curiosity, as though she always half-expected him to spontaneously combust or something like it. Harry always tried not to be offended, but it was difficult sometimes. Ginny tried to compensate for being in love with him by being overly professional with him, and so it was hard to even have a normal conversation with her. Neville had not been the same since Voldemort's death, and so Harry and he were both invalids. It meant they were more able to relate to each other, but it was hardly the same as it had always been.

When they got inside, it was exactly as Ron had predicted. "Where have the two of you been?" Hermione demanded, staring them both down as though they had committed some heinous sin.

"Snape very chatty?" asked Ron, sending both he and Harry into peals of laughter.

"For your information, I don't think that he's not communicating."

"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is he just talking telepathically or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Hermione put her hands on her hips and gave them the patented do-I-have-to-tell-you-everything look. "Snape _can't_ talk."

"He can't? As far as I knew, he had a tongue."

"Oh, Harry, don't be so stupid. Of course he has a tongue. But do you really think there aren't charms that can't stop someone from speaking?"

"So why hasn't he just written it all out, then?" asked Ron.

Ginny appeared from the kitchen, munching on a sandwich. "Because it's not just his ability to talk that's been taken from him, it's his ability to understand language. You and Hermione and everyone else have been talking to him, but he can't understand a word of it."

"Who would do that?" asked Neville.

"Death Eaters," said Harry. "They're the only ones who have an interest in keeping him silent.

"So what are you going to do?" asked Ron.

"I have no idea."


	8. Midnight Stroll

**Chapter Eight – Midnight Stroll**

Hermione was full of ideas. She wanted to head down straight to the library and see what she could find. Harry was not convinced that that would work. Even if she could find out what the Death Eaters had done – dodgy at best, in Harry's opinion, as he had not found that the Death Eaters were particularly good about sharing their more malicious creations – there was no guarantee that there would be a cure for it. Hermione might be a brilliant Mediwitch, but that didn't mean that she could fix everything. Harry was more inclined to leave it. If Snape wasn't going to confess, he wasn't going to confess. He was sure that they could get around that rule somehow, if he could prove that Snape couldn't actually give a confession. Then Snape would be out of his house and out of his life and maybe everything could just go back to the dull normal that he was used to.

He had convinced Hermione to at least go to bed before going out on her quest to fix Snape, and Ron had promised to make sure that she did. That meant that he would get at least one more night of peace before Hermione invaded his life to try all manner of things. For one thing, Harry wasn't even sure if he wanted Snape to start talking. It wasn't as though they'd parted on good terms, and though Harry had done nothing but try to make him more comfortable, he didn't think that that would necessarily win him any points with Snape. Not if Snape was the avowed Death Eater that he seemed to be.

Though he was tempted to leave Snape downstairs rather than dragging him all the way up the stairs, it would surely ruin his night of watching television until he was finally able to sleep. It would have been so much more helpful if Snape had actually decided to cooperate rather than just be a deadweight for Harry to tow. Snape was bigger than he was, though probably not much heavier, and it just made things so difficult. But Snape was good at making life difficult, in as many ways as possible.

Once they were finally upstairs, Harry felt that it was time to have another chat with Snape. If Hermione was right, then Snape couldn't understand him. And granted, Hermione was nearly always right. But there was still the chance that she was wrong, and that Snape, for his own reasons, was deliberately not talking to him.

"Tomorrow, Hermione is going to try to find a spell to counteract whatever the Death Eaters have done to you. If it doesn't work, then I'm going to go to the Ministry and try to plea your case away from execution. I don't think that they can kill you without you confessing to the crime, but I'm sure they'd like to. But I'm going to do something to keep you from being killed." He paused. "And I don't know why. I hate you. You killed Dumbledore, and did God-knows-what since. So I think you should be punished, believe me when I say that. I'm not trying to make it so that you get nothing at all, that they just set you free. But I think that there's more to this than you want to admit, and I want to know the whole truth. Dumbledore trusted you and he wasn't an idiot. He must have done it for a reason. The Death Eaters silenced you for a reason. I want to know all of that." He shook his head. "I don't expect any thanks from you, I've never gotten it in the past. I don't expect anything from you. I know that, if you can understand me, you're probably laughing at me for falling for your tricks. I don't care. I'm going to figure this out. Me and Ron and Hermione have always been pretty good at that kind of thing, and I don't see why we can't figure it out again. Just one more puzzle." Another pause, longer this time. "Well, good night, Snape."

Harry fell asleep on the couch a few hours later, the television still blaring mindless nonsense. For once, he didn't dream, something that he was grateful for. He thought that it was the whisky that Ron had brought in. Alcohol always chased away the bad dreams. That was why he had started drinking in the first place. To get rid of the bad.

He was woken up from his peaceful and dreamless sleep by a blaring noise that he couldn't place. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and found his living room full of guards, all with their wands out. Sleepily, he raised his hands above his head. "Didn't do nothing," he managed to say.

"We've got him," said a voice from outside the room.

One of the guards in the living room said, "That was extremely stupid of you, Mr. Potter. Snape nearly got away."

He rubbed his eyes. "What do you mean, he nearly got away?" As far as Harry could remember, he'd never actually seen Snape move since first seeing him in Azkaban.

"Evidently, he was testing the strength of the wards, and very nearly made it past them. It was that that set off the alarm, and we only just managed to get him."

He sat up. That was not what he had expected to hear. "Where is he now?"

"Back at Azkaban, of course. It's not safe for him to be here. This is what we always guessed was going to happen."

Back at Azkaban? So it had all been for nothing, then. This week of misery had all been for nothing. Typical. How bloody typical of his life. He lay back down on the couch. "Fine. Go away. Let me sleep. It's the middle of the night. Thank you for your service, and all the rest." As he closed his eyes, he heard them leaving noisily.

Snape was gone. Finally, he would get some peace.


	9. The Trial

Because I love all of you so much...two chapters today! Only one more chapter to go...

**Chapter Nine – The Trial**

They had asked him to go to the trial, so he had put on a nice suit and Apparated at the Ministry. It had been so long since he had been there. He had been fired two months ago for not ever coming to work. It had caused a big fuss at the time, what with him being Harry Potter and all, but he had enough money to happily live out his life without ever needing to work again, and if he kept up his drinking, it would only be another few years before his liver gave out and ended the agony that had become his life. He knew that he looked terrible; all of his friends had told him so, and had begged and pleaded with him to get some help, and that they were willing to help him get a job somewhere. But he didn't really want a job. He was fairly happy being unemployed and drunk all the time. The way he saw it, he had made his contribution to the Wizarding World by getting rid of Voldemort, and so if they didn't mind, he would love to just be left alone.

Snape looked even worse than he had when he'd been living with Harry. He was so thin as to be skeletal, and his hair – that long, greasy mess that had been reviled by several generations of students – was starting to fall out. His eyes still had that same blank, staring quality, and the way he moved as he was led into the room made Harry think of all of those old Muggle zombie movies.

Apparently, he still hadn't confessed – Harry wasn't surprised – but they'd decided to go on with the trial anyway. They'd made all kinds of speeches about setting a new precedent, but Harry suspected that they were just tired of waiting. He couldn't exactly blame them; this was Dumbledore's murderer and he deserved to be punished for what he'd done.

Hermione had spent considerable time trying to figure out what was wrong with Snape and had even had permission to go to Azkaban several times to try out one thing or another. Nothing had worked, just as Harry had guessed. Whether this was voluntary or a product of Death Eater malice, Snape was mute, and seemed pretty determined to stay that way.

Everyone knew that the trial was little but a formality. He was going to be convicted, and he was going to be convicted on Harry Potter's testimony. There was a big hush as Harry came up to the stand.

"Were you present at the murder of Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes, I was."

"Do you see his killer anywhere here?"

"Yes, I do."

"Could you please name that person."

"Severus Snape."

"You're certain that it was him?"

"Absolutely positive." Harry launched into a summary of what had happened, but was quickly cut off. Everyone had heard it before and no one wanted to hear it again. It was still just too painful.

"You brought Severus Snape into your home a short while ago, is that correct?"

"Yes, he lived with me for about a week."

"What was the purpose of this?"

"To see if I could get a confession out of him. I did not think that being in Azkaban would give him much incentive to confess, and I thought that being somewhere else might."

"Were you able to procure such a confession?"

"No, I was not."

"Why were you not able?"

"As I am sure that anyone involved with this case knows, Severus Snape is functionally mute. It is not known whether this is voluntary or magically induced, but he is more like a walking corpse than a living person. Just look at him! He's not even paying attention to what's going on." It was true. Snape was just staring blankly at the wall in front of him, and had been doing so since he had been brought in. "How can you condemn a man like that, a man who doesn't even seem to be alive?"

"That's enough, Mr. Potter. You are not qualified to make judgments on the defendant's mental state and I will remind you to remember that."

"It's hardly out of place when everyone can see it." For some reason, a rebellious streak had risen in him. "If the Death Eaters did this to him, it means that there's something wrong with the way we're looking at things. We can't kill him."

There was a sudden hush in the courtroom and Harry felt all eyes on him.

"What did you say, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked around the courtroom. They were all waiting to hear what he had to say, waiting to hear why he thought that they shouldn't kill the most dangerous Death Eater still alive today. He hadn't meant to do this, but as always, his knack for making trouble could never stay dormant for long enough, and popped up at the very worst moments.

"I don't know how much of this the Ministry would like me to say. Peculiar things have started to happen again, things that are very badly reminiscent of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. While I do believe that I killed him, I cannot be certain that he is dead. We all know of Lord Voldemort's powers, and I do not think it unreasonable that he could have risen a third time. I am not denying that Severus Snape killed Albus Dumbledore, I saw him do it. What I am saying is that maybe Snape knows something that could help us. Maybe that's why the Death Eaters made him mute. Maybe he could be the key to our victory."

"Albus Dumbledore felt the same way about Snape last time, that is well know."

"I agree. I do not doubt that Snape is very dangerous. But I think that killing him would be a huge mistake, one that the entire Wizarding World would come to regret. He needs to be kept alive, at least until we can figure out just what is going on." Harry stood up. "And that is all I have to say. Thank you."


	10. The Sentence

**Chapter Ten – The Sentence**

Harry had wanted to leave after making that speech. He thought that he had probably condemned himself in the public opinion. But he had decided that he didn't really care what the public thought of him. What he had said, had needed to be said, and Snape was going to be condemned to death anyway. It wasn't going to make any difference that Harry knew, just knew, that there was something that Snape was hiding. There had to be some reason that Snape wasn't talking. Stubbornness did not extend to catatonia. Not in the face of certain death.

But he had stayed, because he wanted to see if Snape had the slightest reaction when the verdict was pronounced. A huge space had cleared around him, as though no one wanted to be associated with the man that had been once revered. No, the teenager that they had revered. The teenager, they loved. The man, they hated. It was an easy enough divide in his mind.

More testimony followed after his, though he had always known that he would provide the strongest. Now that he had made that speech, he wished that that would sway the verdict in a different direction, and found himself horrified that he was even thinking it. He hated Snape as much as, if not more than, the rest of the country. He had watched Snape, in cold blood, murder Dumbledore. Like it was absolutely nothing at all. Nothing, nothing in the world, could excuse or forgive that.

Through it all, Snape had remained motionless. As the testimony piled up against him, it didn't even seem to occur to him that he was slowly being condemned and the words that the judge issued would be a mere formality. Everyone knew that Snape was a dead man walking.

Except Harry knew that that was what he actually was. Something about him seemed thoroughly dead already. Killing him at this point wouldn't do anything to him that hadn't been done already. Something in him was dead.

Finally, the judge left to deliberate. Most people did not bother to get up; it was assumed that it would only be a brief recess and that the judge would be back within ten or fifteen minutes. This was, after all, a very open-and-shut case. Harry Potter had seen him kill Dumbledore, and he had then fled and had not been seen again for years. Every Death Eater that they had captured, though, had attested to the manner in which Snape grew closer and closer to Voldemort, coming as close to his right-hand man as it was possible to do. Not all of the Death Eaters could have been lying. Snape might not have been seen for years, but he had been working behind the scenes to make sure that Voldemort did not fall. Until, of course, he did fall. Even then, Snape had not been captured, or even seen, for years. All kinds of rumors spread about him, but Harry didn't really believe any of them. He was no stranger to rumors, and the falsity that most of them presented.

It took more than an hour before the judge emerged. Everyone else watched him walk over; Harry saw that Snape didn't. If this was just an act – which Harry was doubting more and more by the minute – then it was the best he'd ever seen. Snape, if he was faking it, had perfected the art of not caring about a thing in the world, not even his own death. That must take practice.

The judge looked at Snape, and then at Harry, before speaking. "I think that it is evident that Severus Snape is guilty of the crime that he has been charged with. The eyewitness testimony of Mr. Harry Potter has made me sure that it was Severus Snape that committed that vile act. That alone should be enough to condemn him to death. But the speculation over the years that has followed has led me to be convinced that Severus Snape's role in the Death Eaters was far more…elevated than simply as a murderer. If this is looked at as well, it is unconscionable to consider anything other than a death sentence for Severus Snape."

A cheer rose up in the room, but the judge raised his hands. The room fell silent.

"However, as is the statute, a man cannot be condemned to death without first confessing to the crime. This Severus Snape has not done. In accordance with this, Severus Snape should simply be given a life sentence in Azkaban, something which is more than possible to do. There are risks inherent with this, but without a confession, it is not possible to execute Severus Snape.

"Finally, Mr. Potter made a point which I believe we have all tried to push to the backs of our minds. Something is happening in this country, and from all indications, it is the work of the Death Eaters. As Severus Snape was reputed to be one of the most senior Death Eaters and was free up until very recently, I find it impossible to believe that he did not have some knowledge of these actions, who was behind them, and why they are being carried out now. It would be a gross misuse of justice to pardon a man for a terrible crime simply because he may prove useful in the future, though."

Harry wished that the judge would just hurry up and say what he meant, because now he was just starting to be annoying. He was supposed to have decided upon a verdict, not written a speech.

"Bearing all of that in mind, I have made my judgment to the fate of Severus Snape. Due to the nature of his heinous crime, but to the potential he has to assist the Ministry of Magic, I am hereby sentencing Snape to life imprisonment. This sentence is to be carried out in two parts. The first part will consist of Snape being under house arrest with Mr. Harry Potter. After his usefulness has been determined, he will either be moved to Azkaban or remain with Mr. Potter.

"Court is adjourned."

TO BE CONTINUED, in "Defender of the Faith"…coming soon!


End file.
